


Out of the closet

by WilwyWaylan



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Gen, Sibling Fluff, just some mindless fluff, kind of cracky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-31 08:40:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18587704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WilwyWaylan/pseuds/WilwyWaylan
Summary: Five discovers something about Klaus, and decides to humor him, as a good brother should do.





	Out of the closet

It's because of the weird silence that Klaus first notices the noise. It's not unusual, of course ; even when they were still all living there as a  
(family)  
group, the place wasn't bustling with the usual ruckus and mayhem that comes with seven active children (but where they even children ?). Heavy doors and stern commands confined all the noise made by their training and non-existant games to the rooms, leaving halls and corridors in a deep silence where any noise resonated like a gunshot. Every one of them had memorized each crack of the floorboards, each whisper and moan of the rafters, the bang of a window and the shuffle of a carpet. Soon, they all knew the song, Mom's clicking steps and Father's heavy pace, Luther's stomp or Allison's bounce. The melody of the place they came to call home because it was all they had.

Even now, after years of living away and coming here only now and then, when he can't find a roof and the pain and the loneliness and the craving are too much and - even after all those years, Klaus can still recognize each crack, each small sound. Even after all this time, his feet instinctively fall back in the dance, they find the path they designed to reach the kitchen in complete silence, to raid the fridge, when they - Ben and him, when Ben was still alive and a set of steps Klaus knew as well as his own, not -

He still knows the song and the steps of the dance, even if it's a little older, a little heavier. So when he hears that particular crack, he knows which verse it is, and what it means. Someone is where they shouldn't be. Klaus makes his way through the gallery, his feet silent on the thick carpet as they always were, Ben following behind, going through the walking motions even as he doesn't need it anymore.

Klaus reaches the door of his room, and slowly pushes it open. Nothing to see. Then a shirt crosses the room to land on a heap at the bottom of the bed, where three other shirts, a pair of jeans and a mesh jacket already lie. He steps in, catches the next thing coming at his head - a lace blouse with so many ruffles, that he doesn't even remember getting - and turns towards his closet.

\- What the fuck ? he says eloquently.

Five turns to look at him, not troubled in the slightest.

\- Do you even own one decent pair of pants ? he asks.

\- Excuse you, all my pants are decent.

Five holds up the ones in his hands - his favourite, the ones he spent a whole hour carefully slashing with a cutter - then throws them at his head, where they hang like a very weird headband.

\- You call that decent ? They look like they endured the apocalypse.

\- I don't see the problem. All the bits are covered, everything's held in place.

Five's glace effectively conveys everything he thinks about Klaus' pants, bits, and everything they have to do with each other. He dives back into the closet, and pieces of clothing start flying again. Klaus just leans back. Ben sits on the bed, clearly amused, and they both watch the show.

Soon, Five emerges, a little out of breath. He's holding a small box in his hands. A small box that Klaus doesn't want to think about, had almost forgotten. He jumps to rip it out of his hands, but Five teleports away out of his reach - of course he does, the little shit.

\- Hey, give that back ! he tries, even if he knows that it's useless.

Five's smile is way too big.

\- Why ? What's in there ?

\- Nothing !

He dives again, but Five ducks, and he crashes on the bed. Ben moves out of the way, looking quite amused by the situation.

\- What ? Five asks again. Is there something in there I'm not supposed to see ?

To Klaus' horror, he starts opening it.

\- Don't do that !

There's a hint of panic in his voice that makes Five pause for a second.

\- You know I know what a dildo is, right ?

\- That's great for you, brother, and I'm glad that your time after the apocalypse was so rich in teachings and discoveries, but I still have two objections : first, I don't need my 13-years-old brother (Five's smile disappears, and Klaus quickly amends) my 13-years-old-looking brother talking about dildos, or sextoys, or sex in general. It's a very interesting topic, yes, my favourite even besides drugs, but let's wait until you're fourteen... looking.

Ben mutters something sounding like "like it disturbs you" and Klaus hisses at him.

\- Second, he goes on, it's not a dildo. I keep mine under my pillow, close to my heart.

Both of his brothers make a face, and Ben hastily moves from the bed. Klaus takes advantage of the reaction to try and grab the box a third time. Five teleports again. But the box, damaged by the years, can't endure that treatment. The cardboard breaks, and the contents spill on the floor. Klaus watches the papers and pictures slide endlessly, farther and farther, like they want to cover the whole floor. But they stop, at his feet. He looks up. He can't, he doesn't want to look at them again. He's done it so much that he can still feel them under his fingers. The pictures, cracked after being folded so much. The drawings, smudged and stained. The bright colors that don't want to fade, the smiles that linger... He blinks, trying to get rid of the prickling sensation at the corners of his eyes.

When he looks back, Five is holding one of the pictures and peering at his curiously. On the glossy paper, a young Ben and a - happy, young, innocent - Klaus grin at him, holding each other's shoulders. Klaus knows it by heart, the cut on Ben's forehead, a plaster on his hand that Grace insisted to put on, the crease going between them like a reminder of - Klaus feels the familiar itch in his fingers, the need to drown everything in the comfortable silence of the drugs.

\- Hey !

He doesn't know who talked, Ben or Five, they are both looking at him ; Ben seems worried, Five's expression is just bemusement, but maybe that's how he shows worry too. He wipes his eyes, staining his hand with his eyeliner.

\- You okay ? Five asks.

\- Yeah, sure. Perfect.

Five's face clearly shows that he doesn't believe him, but he doesn't say anything, instead thumbing through the papers gathered in his hand.

\- You kept Ben's pics ? he asks.

\- Yeah, well. Someone had to, right ?

\- And the others ?

Klaus shrugs. Maybe the others would have done the same, he doesn't know, he doesn't want to think about it. He kept them all, hoarded them and hid them for himself because it dulled the pain a little. He was selfish, he always was selfish when it came to Ben, and he didn't care, he still doesn't. He was the closest to Ben and Ben was the closest to him, and when he died, it left a hole that he tried to close as he could.

He doesn't say anything, just takes the pictures and drawings from Five's hands - all those smiles, those happy faces, forever lost - and stuffs them in a drawer. When he turns back, all traces of sorrow have been carefully pushed down, hidden under the smile and the make-up.

\- So, boys ! he chirps, clapping his hands.

Five's only answer is a raised eyebrow.

\- Say, what were you doing in my closet ? Looking for a fashion sense ?

\- As if I wanted yours.

\- The remnants of my heterosexuality, maybe ?

Ben mouths a "what the fuck ?" at him and he blows him a kiss. Five follows the gesture, frowns, looks back at Klaus.

\- I know you don't have any left since you were eleven, I think, he deadpans.

\- Aow, that hurts, Klaus mock-whines.

\- Everyone knows, Five insists.

\- And I'm loud and proud.

\- Especially loud, Ben adds.

\- Low blow. Now, that brings us back to square one : what were you doing in my closet ?

With a sigh, Five gestures vaguely towards his clothes.

\- I only have this to wear, and I'm starting to get hacked off with having to dress as a college boy.

Klaus bites off his answer about him _being_ a college boy.

\- But you're so cute in them !

Five glares at him, and for a second, Klaus thinks that he's going to teleport away. But he just says through gritted teeth :

\- It's extremely annoying.

He looks down again.

\- Also, I'm freezing. They aren't really appropriate.

\- You should have said something ! Let your big brother help you !

He grabs Five, hoists him to his feet and drags him out of the room. He expects the arm under his fingers to disappear, but it stays there, and despite his protests, Five follows.

~*~

\- What are we doing here ?

\- Shhhh !

Klaus looks at Five, then at Ben who followed and seems vaguely curious. He carefully pushes the door open. There's no real reason, It's been a long time since Diego has used that room, but old habits die hard.

Once sure the path is clear, Klaus slips into the room and walks to the wardrobe. He opens it, peers inside.

\- Well, our Diego certainly loved a little variation in his clothes.

He pulls out a few leather outfits, strictly identical to the one he's been wearing those last days, only a little smaller. He holds one to Five, who makes the most amazing disgusted face.

\- I am not wearing that, he warns.

\- Oh, so sad. You'd look amazing in it ! Cutest little dominatrix !

Ben groans and shakes his head. Five growls too, but more like he's very much wanting to bite him.

\- Okay, I'll take that back.

Five's stance relaxes a little.

\- The cutest little Village Person, he can't help but add.

\- Screw you, Five hisses, and walks out.

\- You can't help yourself, Ben remarks.

\- I'm not even trying.

Klaus grins at him and follows Five in the hallway.

~*~

Compared to theirs, Allison's room is a cozy little nest, with comfortable pillows, white curtains at the top of the bed and white furniture. Pics are still stuck to the mirror, and everything is bathed in a soft, almost dreamy light.

\- I'm not wearing Allison's clothes, Five says.

\- You're not wearing leather, not wearing a skirt... For a 58 year old, you're awfully conservative, you know. You should live a little. Ditch the old rules. Do what you want, you don't think ?

Five looks ready to protest, but something, maybe the acknowledgement of his real age, holds him back, and he merely rolls his eyes. Klaus grabs a boa hanging from the dresser, throws it around Five's neck and uses it to drag him forwards.

\- C'mon, let the real you talk. Who knows ? Maybe Delores would like it !

Five's expression changes at the mention of Delores. Klaus doesn't know if he crossed a line or not, and he doesn't dwell on it. He frolicks to the closet, starts digging through it. He soon pulls out an armful of clothes that he all but showers Five with, muttering to himself :

\- Not that. No, not your color at all. And this doesn't flatter you in the slightest.

Five looks more and more exasperated, and Ben more and more amused. Klaus stops with a very low-cut purple dress held almost up to Five's head.

\- This one ? Yes ?

\- If you make me put this on, I swear...

\- Hmm no. Not your style. I would wear it way better.

He throws it over his head, slides it on. Five starts saying something, but Klaus cuts him but doing the same to him, sticking him in a yellow twin-set. He jumps on the bed, starts bouncing on it, watching his brother fight his way out of the gaudy cotton.

\- Don't be shy, he yell-sings, let your flag fly !

Five finally gets free, and glares at him. Klaus immediatly stops jumping and steps back down.

\- You're right, I'm not sure you can pull it off. But I know what's perfect for you.

Five's expression clearly shows that he doesn't believe a word of it, but he lets himself be pulled along. Ben follows, grinning from ear to ear.

~*~

\- If Luther knows you've been in his room.... Ben mutters.

\- What Luther doesn't know can't harm me, Klaus retorts, and he'll never know I went in his room.

\- I don't know who you're trying to convince, Five answers, but he'll know because you're a disaster.

\- That hurts, brother.

The closet door hangs open, and Klaus only has to cross the room to grab the nearest pile of fabric.

\- What the fuck is that ? A circus tent ?

\- Are you that high, Five groans, that you don't even recognize a sweater ?

Klaus looks at the thing again. It is a sweater, thick and sturdy and big enough to fit an elephant, with a zipper the size of a railroad or almost. He glances at Five, who takes one step back.

\- Don't even... he starts.

But already, Klaus has stuffed him in the sweater and pulled his arms through the sleeves. Five pushes him away, trying to find his way through what seems to be acres and acres of cotton and... is that fleece ? Luther certainly likes his comfort.

He finally emerges, and Klaus promptly falls on the ground, holding his ribs and howling with laughter. Ben smiles, too. Five seems ready to burst, but he looks at himself, the sleeves falling to his knees, the sweater looking more like some kind of weird dress on him, and even he cracks up.

It takes him a few more minutes to get out of the thing, during which Klaus keeps digging through the closet.

\- None of our siblings has the slightest sense of fashion.

\- Neither do you.

Klaus ignores the remark.

\- If Vanya was still living here, you could certainly borrow some clothes your size from her. If you like grey, grey or grey, of course. But she only left her academy clothes here, and we've ruled out the pleated skirts. Even if you'd be lovely in them.

Five seems to have understood by now that Klaus delects in the faces he makes, and just slightly frowns at him.

\- But I'm not one to back down from a challenge !

Ben and Five both snort.

\- Back to square one ! ... Again !

He grabs Five again, drags him again, past Ben's room without slowing, and back to his room.

\- I'm still not wearing those rags you call pants, Five says.

\- They don't really flatter you.

Klaus looks at the clothes he gathered from the others' rooms, now lying at his feet.

\- Then again, I may have an idea...

Five shivers.

~*~

They all come home - because it's home, in a way - at nightfall : Luther grunting, Allison calm as ever, Diego bustling with energy, Vanya shuffling around discreetly. As usual, they gather to discuss their progress, which is, none at all, and muse about Five and Klaus' absence.

Allison is the first to notice the weird shape hanging from the ceiling in front of the hearth, like some kind of... sheet ? It's dark, moving slightly, and the glow of a fire in the chimney can be seen through. Or maybe it's the start of something worse. Immediatly in alarm mode, Diego grabs one of his knives and starts edging forwards on the left, Luther takes the right, fists drawn. They close on the thing, ready to strike whatever is invading their houe.

\- Fancy meeting you here, Klaus quips.

Diego and Luther can only blink at them.

\- Welcome to Castle Klaus ! And Five, he adds. Klaus-Five. Klive.

\- That sucks, Five remarks without looking up.

\- What are you doing here ? Diego hisses.

\- Devising a new gravity theory, why ?

He leans back, grabs his glass and toasts his brothers before emptying it.

Allison and Vanya join the boys and look at the decidely weird picture in front of them. Klaus and Five pushed the pricy couch aside to pile as many cushions as they could in front of the chimney, and are currently lying on them, under their decidely weird tent. Five is now wearing a pair of Allison's leggings with the legs rolled up twince, one of Klaus' hideous tie-dye shirts and a worn-out leather jacket ; the handling he's been victim ofhas left his hair mussed, far from his usual hairstyle, and his shoes currently lie under a dresser. They are both holding glasses of colorful drinks, and Reginald's old swords with which they are roasting marshmallows.

Luther opens his mouth to condemn what he probably sees as an affront, but Klaus is quicker.

\- Marshmallow ? he offers, waving the bag in front of his face. We also have margaritas. Or coke, if it's not your jam. Grab a glass and a sword, big guy.

\- Stop playing with those ! Luther finally growls. They're not toys.

\- Aren't they ? And here I thought they were just some fancy sticks to grill marshmallows with my son !

Five jabs him sharply in the ribs with the hilt of his sword.

\- How the hell am I your son ?

\- What ? My dear little one rejects me ! Oh, how my fatherly heart is breaking !

\- Shut your mouth or I'll shut it up for you.

\- His first words of rejection ! How cute !

\- He's kinda right, Diego remarks.

Five sends him a glare that could melt steel. Diego doesn't flinch.

\- You're just two inches of eyeliner away from being a mini-Klaus.

\- Which is very scary, Allison adds.

\- You're _so_ mean with me. All of you. I should keep my marshmallows for myself and not share with you. Including you, ungrateful son.

Five hits him with his sword again, and grabs the package from his hands. Klaus whines and dramatically falls back, under the gaze of his not very concerned siblings.

Allison is the first to shrug and sit with them. She takes one of the swords on the rack, sticks a marshmallow on it, and puts it in the flames. It's enough to convince Luther to join, with a few grunts. He's still disapproving, and glaring at them all he knows, but he shuts up and it's all that matters. Vanya and Diego join them too, and soon, they are all sitting together, chatting, laughing sometimes, needling Five about his new looks, bringing back the song of old times for a few moments.

(Until Luther looks up and asks :

\- Wait, is that my sweater ?

And all Hell breaks loose.)


End file.
